The Price of Love
by GraceBe
Summary: "Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end." A big thank you goes to my beta, the talented and wonderful witty Gemenied!
1. Part 1

**Here we go with my latest puppy that's very dear to me. It's the AU of the AU, so to speak. I know many of you didn't really like "The evening of Life". Well, this one is the alternative version of it. I can promise you, Della won't die in this one, but there'll be some heartache... so beware :-) **

**And before you ask about "The returning revenger", I've been having some creative problems with it, but I intend to finish it very soon! So for now have fun with this one and let me now what you think! **

**The Price of Love**

**Part One **

"_The price of love is always just above that what your heart can afford"_

_New York, August 1964_

Perry Mason stepped out into the large hall and inhaled deeply. He stood at the top of the stairs in the Waldorf Astoria and looked down into the large, overwhelming foyer. Under normal circumstances the beauty of the vibrant hotel with its noises and its lights would have taken his breath away. But right now he could have stood on the surface of the moon itself and it had meant nothing to him. He felt numb. The world was numb. A lonely place in the middle of the universe.

So this was it what it felt like when the center of one's universe was shaken and turned upside down. Not even his heartbeat had increased. All he felt was emptiness. He thought he had known the feeling all along, but he had been foolishly wrong.

Dramatic people could compare his situation to a famous movie. In "Casablanca" Humphrey Bogart called it "the wild finish". The moment a man's heart was torn out of his chest and cut into pieces. Some kind of a "wild finish" had happened to him tonight, but his flaw was, he couldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself, because if he did, he pain would tear him apart, the lie of his life would become a fact and not just a shadowy foreboding.

The evening had started as expected. He and Laura had arrived at the banquet, they had shaken hands, listened to political gossip and half truths and then _she_ had arrived, had entered the room and re-entered his life. From the moment his eyes had caught hers, his ears had turned deaf to every platitude and polite lie around him.

They hadn't spoken to each other, but of course people were watching them and the last thing he wanted was to compromise her or his wife in front of the press and his political friends and enemies.

What he had dared was to establish eye contact between them every now and then. Across the room while she was chatting to a Senator's wife and sticking to her first and only glass of champagne for the night. The other woman had been oblivious to the wandering eyes of her chit chatting partner and so they had enjoyed a few moments of silent interaction. It was something he had instantly felt guilty about, because he was, after all, a married man whose wife had mixed with the other party guests. Laura would hardly be amused when she noticed him staring at another woman. _The_ other woman in his life.

And then the speeches had started and suddenly the repressed joy of being in the same room with even that woman had changed into something that almost choked him. A bad gut feeling. The hunch that something was absolutely wrong. How right he had been.

* * *

_2 hours earlier_

When Laura stormed out into the tepid summer night, her finger nails left painful marks within her hand, but she had no choice if she didn't want to start screaming. The physical pain she caused herself was the only antidote she had. Happiness was indeed fragile. The afternoon she had spent in utter bliss, because the upcoming event was such an important milestone on Perry's way into politics and a few hours later, her dreams were shattered to a cloud of dust. Dust this woman had whirled up with her mere presence. With the smile and the grace no ordinary secretary should have. Wasn't that what she was after all? A secretary? She took phone calls, ordered supplies and made coffee. Laura scoffed and searched her purse for her cigarette case. She needed a dose of nicotine to calm down her nerves.

Men were strange individuals when it came to women. They just never knew when they were used and the more attractive the woman was, the harder it was for men to see through them. Della's latest conquest, a District Attorney with political ambitions seemed as blissfully unaware of her true intentions as Perry had been all those years ago. Della Street was sleeping herself to the top and the men she chose for her mission didn't mind, because they couldn't look past her beautiful face.

"I have to do something," Laura mumbled frantically with tears in her eyes. "Dear God, I have to do something." The way Perry's eyes had hung on Della for the last hour made her sick. He seemed to believe that Laura hadn't noticed it, but just as his eyes had never stopped to focus on Della, Laura's eyes had never stopped to watch him. And watching them interacting like this hurt. So much.

Rumor had it, Richard Carlisle intended to marry Della and he had good reason for it. It was always hard for a bachelor to succeed in politics. But once he could present a wife, he got more credibility and the better the woman looked, the better were his chances to win. The rules for the game were simple... very simple...

It took a moment for the idea to manifest itself, but the longer she thought about it, the more she relaxed. It was so obvious and she was so blindsided.

She finished her cigarette and helped herself to the next one. Her hands were shaking with anticipation now.

Of course, Carlisle wanted to marry Della. That's why he had brought her to the banquet. He was already showing her off and rubbed it under Perry's nose. It was no secret both men weren't exactly friends; both were ambitious and wanted a seat in congress. They had experienced their epic encounters in court and usually agreed to disagree. Laura knew that Perry didn't like the idea of Della dating Richard Carlisle or any other man, and she could perfectly picture how much he hated the idea of Della marrying his biggest political enemy. Her husband had a possessive attitude at times and even though she hardly got a taste of it, she knew Perry had reserved most of it for his former mistress.

So far the two of them hadn't had the chance to talk to each other and as long as the dinner went on, there was no way, Della could find a way to involve him in a conversation, but later, after the speeches were over, it would be harder for Laura to control them. But what could she do about it? How could she make sure Perry and Della wouldn't get a chance to sneak away for a secret rendezvous?

Laura smiled. Of course. It was easier than she had thought. All she had to do was writing a note and make sure the right person got the message.

* * *

_1 hour later_

Richard Carlisle was hardly a man who was easily shocked or lost for words, but he had to admit the boldness of Laura Mason astonished him.

When someone had called him away, because he had a phone call waiting for him, Richard had expected a lot of things, but not Laura Kilgallen Mason waiting for him in the foyer of the hotel. She was sitting in one of the gigantic armchairs, a cigarette in her hand and for a moment it looked as if he was arriving for an audience with a queen.

"Have a seat," she invited him and after a short hesitation he sank into the opposite armchair. The foyer was deserted, the noise of the banquet far away behind them. He had met her once before, but aside from a hand shake, they hadn't exchanged words. What could she want from him?

Richard wasn't sure he wanted to know the reason for her unusual approach. She had an aura that gave him goosebumps - the negative kind of feeling. His inner alert was shrilling in his head. The woman meant trouble.

"What is this all about?" Richard asked, skipping the ceremony.

"I think you know why I wanted to talk to you."

"No, I don't," Richard answered frankly. Of course, he had a hunch, but when the woman wanted to play games, he had no intention to make it easy for her.

"Mr. Carlisle, I don't think we have to play dumb with each other. Don't tell me you like the idea of Della Street and Perry Mason being in the same room together."

Richard didn't react. He didn't move a muscle, while he watched her closely.

"People are already talking behind your back... how long have you been dating her? Why aren't you married yet? People will see them together tonight and tomorrow the gossip columns will be full with speculation."

"Aren't you a little bit melodramatic?" Richard asked. "Perry and Della are over. For a long time now. I have enough faith in Della to know that one little encounter won't ruin what we have – as for the press - I don't care and the reporters know it."

Laura returned his speech with a smirk. "Are you really that confident or are you just trying to convince me of it?"

Richard rose and smiled. "You'll never know. That's what a politician's life is all about. Never let the other side know what you think."

"That's what I am to you? The other side?"

"I'm on Della's side, which is hardly yours. Does that answer your question? You see, Laura, life is so easy at times."

Laura didn't answer. She looked as if he had slapped her in the face, but she pulled her calm façade back on quickly. The smile reappeared on her face and it was as icier than ever.

"I hope Miss Street appreciates your loyalty."

Richard nodded softly and smiled mysteriously. "Oh, she does."

"You're getting married, aren't you?" Laura asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"No comment." Richard rose and buttoned his jacket. "Have a good evening." He nodded at her and left.

"So it is really happening... Della is getting married," she thought, the triumph dawning on her face. "In that case," Laura mumbled. "I have to talk to somebody else."

* * *

_90 minutes later._

Della had known from the very beginning the evening would be difficult, but she hadn't expected it could turn out that awful. She hadn't seen Perry in years and being with him in the same room, in the midst of all these strange people, without talking to him was heart wrenching for her.

It was painful for her and it was painful for Richard, the man who loved her more than anything in the world. Sometimes she wished, she had never allowed herself to give in when he started to ask her out, but there was something about him that had captured her heart. He and Perry had a lot in common. Both were persistent, loyal and stood up when they sensed injustice, which was as attractive as their physical presence once they entered a room. Being with both of them in the same building was tearing her apart, but what made the sour feeling about it complete were the gazes that Laura shot at her. Laura Mason had always hated Della. She knew it and she accepted it, even understood it.

Jealousy was a bad adviser, but Laura had never understood how to control her feelings. They always ate her up and chewed her out. Della knew jealousy, but for Perry's sake she had always done her best to make sure it wouldn't control her. Ignoring Laura was the better way to cope with her, but Della had to admit that it wasn't easy to ignore someone whose devious manner poisoned other people's life. Like tonight.

Richard had regularly asked her to marry him for the last couple of years, but it was only last week that Della had finally agreed to marry him. They were engaged now, which was the reason why she had joined him tonight, but it hadn't been the plan to officially announce their engagement at this banquet.

"Good evening, Counselor," Della said lowly, as she stopped next to Perry at the balustrade.

"Miss Street." He slowly turned his head and gave her a smile and corrected himself. "Well, Miss Street for the time being."

She blushed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I had no idea the Senator knew about our engagement and would be bold enough to announce it without asking us. I wanted you to learn about it... differently."

Mason shook his head. "Forget it. It doesn't matter who announced it." Della nodded.

"I guess you're right." The result was the same, as was the heartache. Some things couldn't be delivered mildly.

For a while her eyes searched for nothing in the range of the big foyer. People were passing and chatting and she felt some eyes on them, observing and questioning.

"You look beautiful as always," Perry complimented her after a while.

"Thank you."

"Richard must treat you well."

"He does."

"I'm glad you found someone like him."

She gave him a look. "Last time in court you weren't so jovial."

"That was work, but this is you." He took her hand and placed a short kiss on it. She smelled like roses. Perhaps the same perfume he gave to her years ago.

"Don't," she said lowly and pulled it back quickly. "People are already talking." She lowered her eyes and cleared her throat, as a couple of women passed them. They chuckled, but Perry took Della's elbow and led her away.

"Let them talk. What counts is your happiness... are you happy, Della?"

"I'm happy I found someone like him." They exchanged a shy smile.

"You should go back inside," Della said, looking over her shoulder and to the ball room where they were supposed to be right now. "Laura must be waiting for you."

"She's talking to some of her charity ladies. She won't be bored without me."

Richard Carlisle's grip around her elbow hurt. Laura gasped, as he pulled her with him and forced her into the corner of the room.

"What were you thinking?" he hissed angrily.

"What are you talking about?" Laura asked and tried to shake his hand off.

"Don't lie to me! You told the Senator to announce mine and Della's engagement!"

"So what?" Laura shot back.

"Our engagement is a private matter and hardly belongs here!"

"Nothing is private in politics," Laura explained coldly. "And that way, your beautiful, little fiancé won't have a chance to change her mind. You should thank me!"

"Are you that scared of her?" Richard scoffed. He released her arm and shook his head. "Well, I'm glad I know my future wife better than you know your husband! The next time you want to pull off one of your schemes to keep them apart use your head and think, before you make a real fool out of yourself!"

Drawing a deep breath he looked disgustedly at Laura and turned away. On his way out he passed some people, shook hands, and asked himself where Della was. So far the outcome of the evening was more than just disappointing and he wanted to leave the banquet as fast as possible.

He searched for more than fifteen minutes before he came to the conclusion that he just lost his fiancé.

"So what are your plans for the rest of your life?" Perry asked, as they stepped out on the terrace.

"I guess we'll just continue doing what we're doing now... living day by day," Della answered. It was true. They had never wasted too much thought of the future. The past was burden enough, why bother with something they couldn't control?

"What about children?" Mason asked, persisting.

"Children?" Della laughed. "I feel a little too old to become a mother." She slowly sobered up and added, a little sad. "No, I don't think we'll have children."

"A pity... you' d be a wonderful mother." He breathed in. "It's me, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"If I hadn't left you, we would probably be married... you would be a mother, had all the things you deserve."

She bit her lip and shook her head. "Don't say that. It's hypothetical. We can't know what would have happened if..." It broke her heart to realize that he blamed himself for something, he couldn't have prevented.

"I don't blame you for anything. I made my choices, you made yours." Her eyes were soft and somehow her gentleness was the worst punishment for him. Would it be easier for him to stop loving her, if she weren't this graceful creation God had placed in his office all those years ago?

"How's Laura?" Dell asked. "Why don't you have children?"

"It's not that we didn't try, but..." he paused, reluctant to go on. He hated to be reminded of the day Laura lost her baby. The baby was the reason he had left Della in the first place, because he wanted to do the right thing. He married the mother of his child and then she lost the baby in an accident that wasn't even her fault. "The doctors blamed the car accident, you know."

"I see... I'm sorry." Her gloved hand gently squeezed his arm and he took it, returning the tenderness in her gesture.

"I know you are... I just wished..." he broke off again. "Just forget what I said."

She wished she could hug him, involve him in a tight, secure embrace, but there was no way, she could cross the line. Still, it shocked her to realize he felt so unhappy.

"Are things that bad between you and Laura?"

"No, things are not that bad.. just different."

"I hope you can resolve your problems."

"We probably will and if not, it's not your burden." He released her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. "I wish you all the best, Miss Street. May you be well."

"And you too."

"May I add one last request?" he asked lowly.

"Anything, Counselor."

"May I kiss the bride?"

She was lost from the moment his fingers gently touched the back of her neck. The gesture felt far more intimate to her than words could express. Her heart started racing in her chest, as she feared and anticipated what had to come. His lips touched hers and suddenly all the years of separation were forgotten. They just didn't exist. Instinctively she moved closer against him and his arms tightened around her body...

* * *

Richard's hand blindly searched for the door frame, seeking for something to hold on since the world around him was crumbling. The room he had just entered was dark, another ball room with a large balcony on the other side, on which he could see Perry and Della kissing passionately. He swallowed, sick of the sight. So he had finally found his fiancé in the arms of another man. He should have known better than doing this to himself, but until tonight there still had been the corner of this heart that believed that one day she would love him just as much as he loved her. Now that room in his heart got slowly destroyed. He had really thought Laura was paranoid and exaggerating, but what if he had been too blind to see the truth?

He withdrew when he Della, finally, finally, pulled away from her ex-boss and hoped the darkness would cover him so that they wouldn't notice him. He couldn't face them right now. He needed time and light to deal with them. He watched the couple breathlessly while they entered the dark room and slowly walked, side by side.

"Have you already set a date?" Mason asked, just because he had to break the silence between them.

"We were thinking about next spring..." she answered. "But we haven't fixed a date yet."

"At least something the Senator didn't know," Perry mused ironically.

"I guess we don't have argue about the person who told the Senator about this."

Mason stopped dead.

"Excuse me?"

Della pursed her lips.

"Oh, please, Perry... I saw Laura and Richard talking just half an hour before, before the Senator made the announcement. Not that it matters anymore."

"Why should she do something like that?" Of course, he knew it and he also knew Della was right, but admitting his wife's flaw would be the admission that she had been right in her assumption... that Laura's jealousy was justified.

"That's something you have to ask her," Della answered, fully knowing he wouldn't.

* * *

After refreshing and restoring her makeup, Della returned to her table and was surprised and a little relieved to find Richard gone. Her hands were still shaking a bit and so she welcomed the glass of champagne the waiter offered her. The banquet was coming to an end, people were leaving and she hoped she could flee the hotel as soon as possible. So far Della's eyes hadn't detected Laura, but she didn't want to cross paths with her tonight. The woman must already have her field day and Della wasn't interested in watching her victory.

"There you are, Darling!"

She startled a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. "Richard!"

"I was searching for you," he said and sank onto the chair next to hers.

"I'm sorry," she said, without adding any other explanation. "Quite a party, wasn't it?"

"You may say so," he answered and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I hope you don't regret saying yes... the cat's out of the bag, I'm afraid." A shadow crossed his face, as he asked his question and for a moment, she was scared he knew about the kiss, she had shared with Perry, but then the twinkle in his eye was back and her fear subsided just as quickly.

She smiled tenderly and shook her head, "I could never be sorry to be with you." She placed a soft kiss on his mouth and asked lowly, "Can you take me home now?"

"If that's what you want."

"I do want it. Very much."

* * *

Satisfied with the result of her little scheme, Laura watched Della and Richard, as they left the hotel arm in arm. Richard Carlisle might not have the guts to protect what was his, but she had and one day he would thank her for it.

Loving someone came always with a price and paying it was never pretty.

**~End Part 1~**


	2. Part 2

**First of all thank you for all your reviews and comments. I appreciate that you took your time to leave me a note! **

Marti: Thank you very much that you took your time to write a review, but please consider that it were Laura's thoughts that called Della you know what. As a writer you must go into your characters heads, but it doesn't mean, the characters thoughts reflect my ideas about another character.

Here's Part 2 now. Could happen that some of you, will want to shoot me after reading it...

**The Price of Love**

**Two **

De fumo in flammam ~ Out of the smoke into the flame

_Washington, December 1964_

The snowfall outside was heavy. Though Christmas was still weeks away, the cold had extended its nasty grip on the capitol and reigned it with chaotic force. The streets were crowded with stranded cars and at the airport the planes remained on the ground, covered with ice, covered with snow. Not that the weather really mattered inside Perry Mason's hotel suite right now. In there he didn't have to fear the brutal influence of the winter, what he had to fear was the powerful heat that was exploding in his chest and shaking him to the core, now that the woman he loved was again lying in his arms with her beautiful body pressed against his.

He certainly wished Della Street had never entered his hotel suite tonight. She had come to talk, to share her sorrows over her heavy argument with her fiancé. She needed a friend, but what she got was the lover who had rejected her to marry another woman.

Laura used to say, Della was his weakest spot. The only thing that could make him crumble, and she was right. Mason was falling apart. He was falling fast and hard while he couldn't stop touching her. With every kiss his lust for her grew and his obvious desire for her would have shocked him if it hadn't felt so right. He knew he was bound to regret it. He was bound to get burned and so was she, but then they had been from the very beginning, ever since they had laid eyes on each other.

* * *

The flames in the fireplace were flickering dangerously. The wood cracked while outside the wind howled. The sound scape around them seemed as surreal as the feelings of his lips on her neck. His tongue and his hot breath left traces on her skin, marked her as his. Everything about this, about him was wrong. It wasn't what she came for, though deep in her heart she had to admit it was what she wanted. It was what she had to deny herself, because he wasn't hers and he never would be hers. What did it make her that she didn't want to waste her time with the thought of Laura. Or how the woman would feel if she ever found out about her husband being all over his former lover.

How could it be that she was willingly giving herself to a married man? That her body reacted to him was natural. His touch sent shivers all over her body. She was covered with goosebumps and her skin anticipated every stroke and every kiss like an old, but solemnly missed friend. Of course, her heart reopened for him, because he had held it for so long and she knew he still treasured it, but at least her mind, the rationale should still resist, struggle and fight the traitors. Why didn't it?

Here on this couch and with her body pressed against his, she felt all right, secure and alive. His hands were warm, determined, though not as tender as she remembered them, as he opened the zip of her cocktail dress. Again he was so collected while her fingers struggled with the collar of his shirt. Maybe because she was too impatient. She needed to run her hands over his naked skin, needed the feeling of his strong body against hers.

She groaned with lust, as she felt the soft bite of his teeth against her neck, wishing it would hurt more, because the pain was what she needed to feel better. A few hours ago, Richard had called her a cheater, and he was right. She wasn't better than other women who betrayed their spouses.

* * *

In the cold of the night, the smoke of Richard Carlisle's cigarette mixed with the snow flakes and disturbed the sight of the hotel suite that was located in the 10th floor on the other side of the street. Inside of him, his gut was burning with jealousy and rage. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe it was his own fault that the woman he loved was now in another man's hotel room, but him standing there on the deserted, cold street at the end of a long day that had been foreshadowing the catastrophe.

He and Mason had coincidentally met in the same restaurant where he and Della had wanted to meet for lunch. As always when Richard and Perry ran into each other, both men tried to be as civil as possible, but after witnessing a kiss between his future wife and the other lawyer several months ago, Richard had a hard time to keep up the facade of politeness.

Then Della had entered the restaurant and it was obvious that Mason and she were genuinely shocked to cross paths again, but before the trio could get eaten up by a shameful silence Mason's lunch partner had arrived and had resolved the situation for the time being.

Richard and Della had shared a tensed meal, though Richard knew he was the one who made it difficult. Of course, it was foolish to believe the encounter was anything but a coincidence, but there were these gnawing doubts deep within him. Those doubts that always ambushed him when the name Perry Mason was mentioned.

Later, when he came to her hotel room to pick her up for a cocktail party, he heard her talking to someone on the phone and when he asked her about it in the car on their way to the party, she had denied the phone call, which caused him to burst.

The obvious lie tore him apart and he had stupidly lashed out at her. He had stopped the car, had screamed the meanest accusations at her, words she had taken with a lot of patience and grace, before she had finally left the car, telling him, if he had come back to his senses, she would gladly talk to him again.

He had run after her through the whirling snow, but she had already taken the next best taxi. He had followed her to this hotel and now he was standing here in the snow storm, ready to kick himself, because he had pushed her right where he never wanted to see her again.

He threw the cigarette in the snow at his feet and decided to go back to his own hotel. Maybe, if he was lucky, she would return to him, because she had finally realized she couldn't live her life waiting for a married man.

Forcing himself to turn away, he walked back to his car that was parked around the corner. Lost in his morbid thoughts, he stared at the icy pavement, felt the snow and the ice cracking under his feet. His coat was soaked by now, the socks in his shoes were wet, his shoes ready for the dumpster.

Every now and then a car was passing him slowly, sometimes he heard wheels lurching and brakes failing. Then he saw the lights of a car that was driving too fast. He raised his head, saw a car that was tailing on the slippery road, approaching him way too quickly. The lights blinded him, and he raised his arm to protect his eyes, but he didn't jump aside. Not when the driver lost control completely and the car turned on the ice and whirled around right in his direction. He heard someone screaming, maybe it was him, then he felt pain, an incredible pain that captivated every fiber of him and then there was darkness and cold...

* * *

Actually, he had stopped smoking two years ago and he only carried a box with cigarettes around to remind himself that he didn't need them anymore. But tonight was an exception. It was his third cigarette in fifteen minutes. He was inhaling deeply, trying to concentrate on the taste and the feeling of the smoke settling in his lungs. But he could try as hard as he wanted, it couldn't disturb his other senses. It couldn't blind him, couldn't turn him deaf and numb. He still felt her presence, tasted her and heard her soft voice calling out his name. She was in the bathroom now. He heard the water running, heard her moving and sometimes cursing, which was so unlike her. Did he do that do her?

He stared out of the window, down onto the street, where the chaos of the winter night was disturbed by police cars and a small crowd of people who were braving the snow. So at least, the world outside was the same messy place as his hotel suite.

"Out of the fire and into the frying pan," he mused, as he finished his cigarette. Why was he losing his way? Why didn't he think of his own wife, before he touched the fiancé of another man? He should have known, he couldn't control himself.

Behind him the door opened and he heard her muffled steps on the carpet.

"Have you seen my shoes?" she asked lowly, and he knew she had been crying in there before.

"In the living room, I think." Not that he knew for sure.

He followed her slowly, because he couldn't quite face her. He hoped she would leave so that he wouldn't have to see the tears in her eyes, but he also hoped, she wouldn't leave ever again.

She found her shoes and he watched her putting them on. "I'll call you a taxi."

"Don't... I'll catch one outside."

"Della, I'm..."

"Don't. Don't say you're sorry, because you aren't... and besides... nothing inerasable happened."

He sighed, defeated. He felt like dropping on the sofa to wallow in self pity, which he probably would have done, if the phone hadn't been ringing.

He picked it up, because it gave him something to do while Della searched her purse for her lipstick.

"Mason."

He listened closely, attentively, yet the meaning of the message took some time to be delivered. He looked at Della who had stopped meddling with the contents of her purse and returned his gaze, as if she was sensing something else had happened, aside from the mess they had almost created.

"All right. Thanks for calling. I'll tell her." He hung up, trying to figure out how to tell her.

"Did something happen?"

"Yes... it was the hospital. Della, Richard had an accident."

* * *

More than she hated the smell of a hospital, it was the atmosphere in it. And with the halls shrouded in silence and half darkness, the karma of the place was even worse. They had been waiting for hours, Della in a seat in the corner, wrapped in a coat, Perry leaning against the wall on the other side of the room.

Perry had insisted on driving her and she had agreed, because she was too shocked to fight with him about it; but they hadn't exchanged a word after they had entered the car. And time wasn't much of a companion either. It passed by incredibly slowly, forcing them to face their lives for what they were.

"I'm always in your way, am I not?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence. She startled, but recovered quickly and answered his question, "You're not in my way, Perry... you're part of it. I can't change that and I would never want to."

"But the fact remains... I complicate your life whenever I enter it."

"I shouldn't have come to you tonight... I should have stayed away. I'm the one who made the mistake...," she broke off and sighed. "I'm the one who complicates her own life. I should have talked to Richard, but..."

Perry sensed she was trying to tell him something, but didn't quite know how to start.

"What is it, Della?" he asked, moving from his safe, distant spot closer to her chair. "What's really wrong?"

"I shouldn't bother you...," she started, but he silenced her effectively as he placed his hand on her knee.

"Della, please talk to me."

"But you deserve better than listening to my problems with another man."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"You want to be the judge, Counselor?" she asked, a hint of ironic amusement in her voice. "Then judge me... I'm pregnant. The conversation on the phone that Richard got notice of, was with my doctor... but I didn't know how to tell him."

For a moment he was lost, thrown into a nirvana, where nothing existed. He sank back in his chair, contemplating what to say.

"He'll live and you'll marry him." He reached out to take her hand and he squeezed it gently. It had to end well. What else was there left to hope for?

* * *

_Aspen, New Years Day 1985_

Laura sat at the bar in the ski lodge and smoked a cigarette. She was alone, of course, she was alone. Ever since Perry had started practicing law again, she used to spend her holidays alone. Her husband, after all, was busy. If she had known, he wouldn't follow their plan to succeed in politics, she would never have stopped practicing law herself. She would have made a career of her own. She would have become someone. Now she was just the bored wife of a man who was bored with his life and sought his excitement somewhere else. Damn, the man couldn't even spend the holidays with her. Naturally, he had promised her beforehand, he would meet her in the lodge, and even more naturally he had called her the morning of New Years Eve, telling her he wouldn't make it. Naturally. After the call her plan had been to get drunk, but then her luck had changed and she had met someone who made sure she wasn't all on her own. And he had become a jinx in disguise, he was the drink she shouldn't have drunk.

"There you are!"

She smiled when she heard his voice behind her. It was young, fresh, so full of life. It was the sound of innocence and she was asking herself, if she had the right to listen to it.

"Hello," she greeted him, almost shyly. She couldn't quite face him, though his fresh face was a feast to look at. In a way he reminded her of Perry. He was tall, dark haired, strong. Young and yet so grown up. Innocent and serious at the same time. What on earth had made her seduce him? Last night, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, this afternoon she felt like a criminal who had stolen something very precious and rare, but it wasn't pride that she felt over her claim. It was guilt.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The young man sank onto the bar stool next to her and helped himself to one of her cigarettes.

"I think I'll stick to coffee," she answered. "How are your friends?" She asked, because she needed to talk about something casual.

"They've recovered," he laughed. "But I'll never understand why some people need to drink until they forget how to use their mother tongue..." He made a pause and attempted to caress her cheek, but she withdrew quickly.

"Please... what if people saw us?"

She had never told him, she was married. She didn't know his last name and he didn't know hers. The whole situation had the makings of a Sidney Sheldon novel and she hated it.

"I don't care," he shrugged and the smile on his face faded away. "I really like you," he admitted. "You're a wonderful woman and I want to spend more time with you."

"You don't know me," she returned and looked away. She needed to end it. She would hurt him and probably break his heart, but it was the best for him. He shouldn't get any more poisoned by her than he already was.

"I think, I know enough to see you're lonely. Well, I'm lonely, too, at times. We could spend our lonely times together."

She had to laugh about his suggestion. Life was so easy for young people and they were just living it by all means.

"I'm sorry," she said and reached out to pat his hand. "I'm going home tomorrow morning, but I appreciate the offer."

"That means there's one night left for us."

"No, there isn't." Laura grabbed her clutch from the bar and slipped from the stool, so that she ended between him and her former seat. She should have left instantly, but she wanted to take the opportunity to have one last look at him. He really reminded her of Perry. Such a fine young man, tender and loving. Maybe it wasn't his youth that attracted her, maybe it was his loving nature. He was a good boy and someone had done a very job of raising him.

"I'm sorry, Ruben, but I can't do this. Thank you for last night." She smiled at him and it felt to her, as if it was the first genuine smile in months. She wanted to reach out to touch him, but she reminded herself of the promise she made to herself and so she just watched him while he stubbed out his cigarette.

"There's nothing to thank me for," he said and returned the smile. "And if you feel lonely, you know where to find me." He had a twinkle in his eye and it almost made her rethink her decision.

"You're a special man. Perhaps I shouldn't mention it, but I think, your parents must be special to raise a fine person like you."

Ruben laughed, "They're the best. They'll arrive tomorrow night, today is their wedding day and they always spend it alone."

"So, it's a good idea for me to leave tomorrow. They would hardly appreciate me."

Ruben shook his head. "My mother appreciates everyone," he said in a loving voice. "There isn't a soul on earth she would ever loathe."

Laura thought about herself and how much she loathed herself right now. She had always known she was someone who loved to play with fire, but lately she had outdone herself and it was time to reevaluate her own rules.

"Never be too sure of anything, Darling. Never."

* * *

First there were the sobs that were stuck in her throat, then there were the tears that ran unchecked over her face. The sickness came later and it almost killed her. She threw up until her stomach was as empty as her heart.

She had heard the unbearable thunder of the avalanche, as it rolled down the mountain and the heart inside her chest had crumbled to a dead knot of veins and flesh. But refusing to believe something never actually changed anything.

The old saying that life was short usually didn't belong into her vocabulary, but from now on, it would always be connected to the young beautiful man who had lost his life in the cold snow up on the mountain she could see from the window of her suite.

The irony was that he would probably still be alive, if she had taken him with her into her room. But the bigger irony, the one fragment of the story, the detail that would hopefully always be missing in her story if someone ever dared to whisper it. So she hoped her story would stay untold once she was dead, because that way his identity was kept a secret. It was the main reason she had suddenly felt so sick, so unbelievably weak and ready to die.

Laura knew she had burned herself when she slept with a man she hadn't even known for more than a few hours and who could easily be her own son. She hadn't realized the fire could consume her, once she had learned who he was. Now she could only flee this place as quickly as possible, before the parents of that young, unfortunate man arrived. It would kill her to face them, now that their son was dead and she had become part of his tragedy.

No, there was no way, she could ever speak to Della and Richard Carlisle again.

**~~End Part Two~~**


	3. Part 3

_**Thanks for everybody who read & reviewed this puppy! I hope you'll have fun with the new chapter and hope you take your time to leave me a comment! **_

**The Price of Love**

**Three**

**Omnia causa fiunt ~ Everything happens for a reason**

_Washington D.C., December 1987_

Perry Mason closed the door and sighed out loud. What an evening. Tiredly he removed his bow tie and opened the first buttons of his shirt. He really couldn't stand cocktail parties anymore. He had suffered through them a long time when D.C. had been his second home, but even today, some years after he had ended his political career, those evenings still felt like torture to him. Today was his lucky night, because he could leave the party early. Laura had stayed in Los Angeles, and so he didn't have to attend longer than absolutely necessary. He had never understood why she enjoyed those occasions so much. The people were mostly boring and the conversations were shallow, but the host had been an old friend and he didn't want to disappoint him. Now he had just to call Laura before she would be out to meet some of her important, boring friends for tea and then he could enjoy some quiet and peace.

Years ago his wife had loved to accompany him to Washington, had reveled in the glamour of the city, but since he had decided to abandon politics to practice law and lecture at university from time to time, she hardly cared to join him. These days she stuck to the high society of Los Angeles. He didn't mind very much. He found himself very much absorbed in the work that he had rediscovered for himself and he didn't miss the company. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and corrected himself. That wasn't quite true. He missed someone's company, dearly, but he couldn't have her and so he stuck to the law to satisfy his need to be needed by someone.

But sometimes he did a little more than sticking to the rules. Sometimes he deliberately broke the promise he had given to her. Many moons ago he had sworn her, he would never seek her out again. Had given his word he would stay away, if in his power. And every now and then he didn't hold up to his end of the bargain and tried to come as close as possible. So close that she wouldn't have seen him, but probably felt, knew he was around. Close enough to meet, if she wanted. But, of course, she always resisted, which proved she was the stronger one. She had proven it many times before... every time she left him, because it was the proper thing to do, when she married a man who would be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, when she buried her only child, after she lost him in a skiing accident. He often wondered where she found the strength within her and always reached the conclusion that his question was the answer. It lay somewhere within her. In her heart, her decent soul.

In today's paper he had read about Senator Carlisle's presence in Washington and he had hoped to read something about her as well, but his hopes had been disappointed. Della Street Carlisle wasn't mentioned in the papers and at the party, he couldn't catch any gossip about her.

He knew he was pathetic in his lousy attempts to be close to a woman who had told him, she couldn't see him again, but he couldn't help it. He always thought, it was worth the try. A glimpse of her, a photo in the paper, the mention of her name by someone was all he wanted, needed. To know she was all right was his elixir, the medicine that kept his heart beating.

And when he thought of her his heart was still going faster. It was like an engine that was fueled with new energy.

He finished his whiskey and contemplated another one, when a knock at his door disturbed his melancholic thoughts. He didn't expect anyone and he didn't long for company, but when his visitor knocked again and more persistently, he forced himself to open the door.

It was the last person, he had expected to see. Senator Richard Carlisle was, sitting in wheelchair or not, an impressive person. He had grown older, but so had Perry. His hair was silver now, but he looked every bit as dynamic as the last time both men had met and fought in court.

"Richard," Mason greeted him, obviously shocked about his visitor while Richard gave him a cordial smile.

"Good evening, Perry. May I come in?"

"Of course."

Richard wheeled past him into his suite and Perry took his time to collect himself. He didn't know what to make of Richard's visit, because if they had one thing in common, aside from Della, it was the fact that they tried their very best to avoid each other.

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I needed to talk to you and when I heard you were alone, I thought I should take my chance."

"That sounds rather ominous," Perry commented suspiciously.

"Actually, it is rather disturbing for me, but there are things in life that can't be avoided. Why don't you sit down, Perry?" Richard pointed at the desk that sheltered Perry's briefcase. "This will take longer."

* * *

_Los Angeles _

Laura Kilgallen Mason stretched slowly as she woke up, because she heard the water running in the bathroom next door. She shouldn't have fallen asleep, but ever since she had started taking those pills, she tired more easily. Sure, she felt better and the darkness wasn't her closest companion anymore, but she had started to understand that that darkness came from another place that wasn't part of her. It was something that sneaked into her and there was no way she could outcast the demons without help. The pills helped, as did the person who was just using her shower. He was young, probably too young, but she felt younger in his presence. She felt something she hadn't felt in years. Before she met him she had lost her purpose. Sleeping with him didn't change that, but it was so much more bearable now.

Perry was glad, Richard had asked him to sit down. Otherwise he might had forgotten to breathe. He had always known Richard Carlisle was an extraordinary man, a good man with integrity and honor, but now he doubted the Senator's sanity. The question Richard had just asked him was not only unusual, it was in some ways inappropriate and embarrassing.

"Well, Mason, the question I asked is rather simple and I want an answer to it."

"Maybe your question isn't that easy to answer" Perry answered, knowingly avoiding the subject, but Richard wouldn't allow Perry to circumvent his question.

"I think it is and I also think I know your answer, but I'd like to hear it nevertheless. I deserve it, Mason."

For a moment the men just glared at each other and then Richard repeated his question, "Do you love my wife?"

"What does it matter, if I do?"

"It matters a lot... it could change your life, if you still loved her."

Mason was taken aback. The whole conversation was surreal to him. It was centered around a woman that wasn't even in the room and yet owned it. And there were two old men who had spent a lifetime fighting over her and finally started to talk peace. He just didn't know why.

"Listen, Richard..."

"No, Perry, you listen... Della will arrive in Washington tomorrow evening and she'll stay in our apartment in Georgetown. I'm sure you know the address. Go to her, talk to her... I know she wants to see you."

Perry rubbed his face, as if the gesture could help him to understand what Carlisle was telling him.

"I don't think..." Perry started again, but Richard raised his hand to silence him.

"I know what I'm asking you seems unlikely to you. Why would I come to you after all these years to ask you to see my wife, after everything I did to make sure she was happy enough with me to stay away from you? The answer is easy, Mason. I'm dying."

Perry gasped and he felt himself straightening up in his chair.

"Last week the doctors confirmed what I've been feeling for the last couple of weeks... Please, don't look so shocked. We all have to face our creator sooner or later and I can call myself lucky enough to make things right, before I go. Compared to my son whose life ended before it begun, I'm really lucky. They say everything happens for a reason. Maybe my knowing my fate before it can hit me, is meant to do some good to someone else... even to you."

Both men fell silent for a moment, both reminiscing about the young man who had lost his life so unnecessarily early. Did his death happen for a reason? Perry doubted it. To him there was no reason in the good dying young, even when a short life reminded the ones who lived longer to stop questioning their dreams to live them.

"And you think making it right involves telling me to meet your wife?"

"I want her to be happy. God knows, she's suffered enough. She's lost you, she's lost her only child, but soon she can have you back. All I'm asking you is to wait until I'm dead. As long as I live just be her friend and have her when I'm gone."

Perry shook his head. This wasn't real. He was caught in a dream, in a fantasy. The man in front of him looked healthy and sane. He couldn't be dying and asking him, his old rival, to return to Della.

"I haven't told her anything yet, but I'll have to sooner than later. It'll hit her hard, but you can catch her when she falls. I know you want to, but she won't ask for it."

"There's one little detail you've forgotten to contemplate," Perry said, forcing himself to ignore the flood of opportunities entering his brain.

Richard nodded and smiled, a strange, ironic smile.

"Ah I see... You haven't forgotten about your wife. I guess you know, how she's spending her time when you're out there, fighting for the wrongful accused?"

Mason narrowed his eyes, when Richard's hand dove into the pocket of his jacket and produced an envelope.

"I'm sure you already have an idea about the contents. I didn't look at them myself, but I assure you the man who took them is trustworthy and discreet."

"You're putting an awful lot of effort into this," Perry said and decided to ignore the envelope on the desk. Carlisle was right, he knew what he would find in there.

"I'm doing this for my wife. I want her to be happy and as much as I hate to admit it, I have the feeling you're the only one who can make her happy. I've tried, and I think I succeeded in some ways, but not always."

"I'm sure you did make her happy," Perry admitted it reluctantly, but he was sure Richard had made Della a lot happier than he had done so with Laura. The envelope on the table was proof of that.

"You have tomorrow evening, Mason. I won't be home before midnight. Make sure you're gone, before I come home."

Richard wheeled back, turned and headed for the door.

"I won't promise you anything," Perry said, as if he was trying to tell the other man that he wouldn't do as he was ordered, that he would refuse the temptation, as if he still had a choice. And of course, Richard Carlisle wasn't buying it, because he had known from the very beginning what he was doing. He accepted it, because it was meant to be.

"Goodbye, Mason."

* * *

_One day later_

Della leaned wearily against the frame of the big panorama window and looked down on the lights of the capitol. The city sparkled with the spirit of Christmas and its complementary cheerfulness, but she felt as distant to it as she was up there in her penthouse apartment.

The Christmas tree she had ordered earlier this week, stood next to her, but it was still naked, stripped off lights and decoration, and it would take a lot of her willpower to decorate it. The whole holiday season had lost its glory for her when she had to bury her son three years ago and she couldn't get past it. Maybe she didn't want to, because her grief for him was everything she had left of him.

She turned her head to have a look at the framed picture of Ruben that stood on the piano. He had been a good player and though nobody used it anymore, she couldn't remove it from the apartment. It felt as she would betray his memory if she did. For a while she just looked at the photograph, as if she recovered strength from her son's face and then she decided to do what he would want her to do: she started decorating the tree.

* * *

Richard Carlisle was still in his office. He had skipped the dinner invitation of an old friend of his and got some work done, but every time he tried to read the papers, the lines became blurry and sometimes the letters danced around each other. Perhaps a side effect of his illness, perhaps it was something else. He checked his pocket watch for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. He had promised not to be home before midnight. That was what he was willing to grant them. The time till witching hour. It was the time he spent with his old ghosts and new fears.

* * *

She wondered who would want to visit her at this hour. It was after 9 pm and except Richard nobody knew she was coming to town, but the doorbell was unmistakably ringing and so she placed the box with the chains of lights on the floor and opened the door.

"Perry?"

She sincerely hoped the shock wouldn't show on her face, because he didn't deserve to look at someone who was obviously not happy to see him. She attempted a brave smile.

"Good evening," Perry greeted her softly.

"Hello." She swallowed, unsure whether to ask him in or not.

"May I?" He asked, pointing his walking stick forward. Why was he walking with a stick?

"Of course." Still flabbergasted she stepped aside, allowing him to enter. She eyed him closely while he passed her. His appearance had altered; he was wearing a beard now, something that she needed to get used to. It added even more dignity to his presence, but it didn't intimidate her. If she was intimidated, then by her own emotions, her shock to have him so close to her again.

She followed him slowly, trying to find a way to control her nervousness.

"That's a beautiful place," he started, but he was instantly interrupted by her.

"What are you doing here?"

He turned and sighed lowly. "I wanted to see you."

"Why? What do you want? After all this time..." she shrugged, helplessly.

He really had hoped, they could spend the first few minutes of their reunion with small talk, but as always she had a way to ruin his thoughtful plans.

"Don't you think it's time, we talk things out between us? To be friends again?" His eyes lay hopefully on her, but a big part of her refused to acknowledge the truth in his request.

"Have we ever been friends?" she asked back.

"I think we were. The best of friends."

Della sighed. He wouldn't leave until he had his way, he never did. He was like a bulldog, if he wanted something. She didn't know how he had ended up in her apartment and why today of all days, but she also realized she was getting a chance here. A chance to come clean about what she considered the worst she had ever done. "Tea, or something stronger?"

The snow fell slowly down on the city and Della watched it, a cup of fresh tea in her hands. It was after midnight. Perry had left half an hour ago and now she was waiting for her husband to return from his so called "dinner" with an old friend. She should have realized earlier it was nothing but an excuse for not coming home, but she had only understood when Perry had stood in front of her door. It was Richard's doing and it hurt her to acknowledge the reason for his scheme.

Richard Carlisle was an open book for her, just as his secretary was her good friend. She told Della everything about the appointments with his doctors lately. They were too frequent and too extensive to be casual routine. Her husband was ill and apparently he was so ill that he thought it was necessary to take care of her future.

"_You know, he believed Ruben was your son," _she had told Perry over a glass of Sherry._ "He married me nevertheless, but at first he didn't believe the baby was his and later he couldn't have been more proud of him. And when he died... Sometimes I thought he wouldn't recover from his death."_

"_And how were you?" _he had asked, because she was only talking about the rest of her family, but never about herself. Was that the price she paid over the years? Living for others, not for herself. Soothing their pain, but not hers?

"_I was lucky to have him... to raise him, to see that he became the kind of man I wanted him to be... Did I have the right to ask for more?"_

Della finished her tea and seconds later she heard the front door opening. Richard was back.

"Hello Darling! You're late, I thought you had forgotten about me" she said, before he could ask for her. It must have cost him a lot to go to Perry, so why should she add to his sorrow and let him wonder, whether she was alone or he still around?

Richard had his reason for what he had done. Love had caused him to seek out Perry. And it was love that caused her to ignore the underlying permission that it contained. As much as she wanted to stay in contact with Perry, as much as she wanted to be part of his life, she wouldn't return to her old life. The night Richard was fighting for his life, after the car had hit him, she had made a promise to him and to herself: she would devote the rest of her life to his happiness and she wouldn't let him leave this world, knowing she was about to go back to another man, as soon as he was dead.

"_Will you let me now, if there's anything I can do for __you__?" _Perry had asked, before he left.

"_Actually, I would rather not..."_

He had nodded in understanding and she had thanked him with a loving smile. She had reached out to take the hand he offered her and squeezed it longingly.

"_That's what we chose, isn't it?"_

"_It's what we are."_

**~tbc~**


	4. Part 4

**So, this is the end. I hope you enjoyed the ride. If so leave me a note and if not, please tell me as well :-) Thanks to everybody for reading and reviewing. You guys are the best! **

**The Price of Love**

**Part 4**

**Per aspera ad astra – Through difficulties to the stars**

_1987, Washington D.C._

"It's a very easy bargain, Laura," Richard told her, while she clung to her cigarette. Her hands were shaking slightly and everybody who would have looked into the Senators' eyes right now would understand why. There was a coldness in them that she had never seen before. Hate, disgust, hostility. She could read it all in them. He had just said he was ill, but in her eyes he didn't look very ill. He seemed more vital and determined than ever.

"What do you want?" she asked, sounding more steady than she imagined she could be.

"Once I'm gone, you'll get a divorce. Make it fair, easy, and without hard feelings. No scandal, no trouble."

The man was serious, that much she could tell, but she wasn't going to let him order her what to do. He was an impressive man, no doubt about that, but she decided to take her chance with him. She leaned back, inhaled deeply and took her time before she answered.

"And if I refuse... and as things look, you'll die anyway... how will you make sure, I'll keep my end of the deal?"

Richard laughed, humorlessly. "Oh, easily... see..." he pushed two envelopes over the desk. "One will be sent to a very good friend of mine. He's the editor of the Los Angeles Chronicle. And one will be sent to your husband. The contents are different, but the message is pretty much the same. Please, have a look and convince yourself."

Laura abandoned her cigarette and took one of the brown envelopes. She opened it, her hands shaking visibly.

"Ah, you chose well. That's the one for Perry. You see," Richard said in a dark voice. „I did some digging and there was one aspect of your... let's say extramarital life that astonished me the most. Do you remember New Years Eve 1985? You spent it in Aspen, didn't you?"

Laura didn't react. She felt his eyes on her, penetrating her skin, cutting her open, baring her inner self, her secrets. She was suddenly feeling very cold.

"You were alone, because Mason was busy with a case or something else more important than you and you craved male company... do I have to say more?"

She felt how the blood was sucked out of her veins and pumped into her heart that started racing, beating hectically. How could he know? No one knew... she had buried every memory of it.

As if he had been reading her mind, Richard answered her silent question.

"A friend of Ruben's remembered you... he was the only one who survived the avalanche. Of course, this information won't end up on the front page. I wouldn't do that to my wife, but your other affairs will become public knowledge in case you won't cooperate. It's your choice, Laura."

She nodded, shocked and discouraged. It was a choice between a rock and a hard place. She grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled herself out of chair.

Everyone who sinned knew that sooner or later, their sins would come to haunt them. That was the law of life, but she would have never thought, the price for her sins would be above everything she could afford.

* * *

_Washington D.C., one day later_

Laura woke up in a hospital bed with someone at her side. It was Perry, she felt his thumb stroking her hand, but she didn't dare to open her eyes. She was exhausted, but one thing was obvious: the mixture of vodka and an overdose of sleeping pills didn't do the job. She was still part of this world and the Lord was unwilling to allow her to leave it for good. Maybe because he thought she wasn't done paying yet.

* * *

_Los Angeles, 1988_

When Della arrived at the restaurant her dinner partner was already there, waiting for her. The man rose, as the waiter led her to the table, and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Good evening," she said, smilingly. "I'm sorry, but it wasn't easy to get here."

"Don't worry."

They ordered their drinks and the man leaned back in his chair, looking all content with himself. "Thanks for coming. I've been waiting an eternity for you to take my invitation."

Della crooked her eyebrow in amusement. Her dinner partner wasn't exactly known for his legendary charm. Quite the opposite was the case.

"What?" he asked, pretending to be innocently surprised by her reaction. "You didn't expect me to pay you a compliment?"

"Certainly not you," she answered coyly.

He laughed. "All right... I'm possibly not the perfect suitor, but I mean what I say. I admire you."

"And what for?" Della asked.

"You're a woman of class. You're an honest soul. Not many of us can say that about themselves and the world needs a few of them once in a while. Just to make sure things are going the way they're supposed to."

"And you're looking for someone to do something right?" she asked, more and more curious. If one could believe the gossip her dinner partner was divorcing his wife and so far no replacement for her was in sight. And his half-hearted flirting was hardly a serious attempt to make a pass at her.

The waiter arrived with the drinks and he made a toast. "To beauty, class, and honesty."

"So, what is it that you want from me?" Della asked, as she put down her glass. "You're not just here to flatter me."

"Who says I'm not?"

Della smiled. "Richard used to say that you never do anything without an ulterior motive."

"I guess he knew me too well... he was a good friend." For a moment the two of them fell silent, lost in their memories.

"He was right, you know. But I always have a good reason for what I'm doing. What if I tell you that you're just the person I'm looking for?"

"And you're looking for what? A secretary?" She asked with a crooked eyebrow.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Not exactly, though a good worker is never a waste. But I was actually thinking of another position, I wanted to offer you... how would you like to represent the Arthur Gordon Foundation as its new administrator?"

* * *

_2 days later_

Della hated hotel rooms with passion and this one seemed cold and lonely in particular. She didn't even know why she was staying in there. Her original plan had been to leave for Sacramento in the afternoon, but she simply hadn't left and extended her stay instead. The shady side of utter freedom meant it was meant to be spend alone. Not even the wind could tell her where to go, because there was no reason to listen to it. She was free of obligations or work. She was rich, healthy and still presentable for her age. And she was alone in a city she had once called home. Los Angeles hadn't been her home in decades, but only today she had realized how much she missed it. She even revisited her old apartment building, something that didn't make it easier for her to live with the memories. Maybe Arthur Gordon's proposal wasn't such a bad idea. If she took Arthur Gordon's offer, she could return to L.A. on a regular basis. It was tempting. In a way too tempting, because she had stayed away all those years for a good reason. How long could she be in L.A. and avoid Perry? How long would she want to? When it came to him she never trusted herself. Especially now that Laura was out of the picture. Laura, the one who had fought tooth and nail to keep him and who had divorced him some months ago. Yes, they were both free now, but she had given Richard a promise before he died and she wanted to keep it.

She feared the day she couldn't help but dialing his telephone number or just showing up at his office or his apartment. The night in Washington, when she almost slept with him, although both of them were bound to other people[,] had been like a warning shot for her. It was what her love had done to her. She had never been a reckless person, she had always played according to the rules and she had felt comfortable with it. Just when it came to him, it was different. It was far more than her heart could afford. It was too deep, too consuming, too painful. How would her life be when she came back to Los Angeles? Could she afford what it took to stay away?

In the end it was the ringing of her doorbell that forced her to interrupt her thoughts. She couldn't know that the visit would change her life. Forever.

* * *

_The next morning_

It was before 7 am when Mason sat at the table in his apartment, completely absorbed in the morning paper. His coffee was getting cold, as were the eggs on his plate, and the toast was hard as stone.

The murder of Paula Gordon and the arrest of her husband Arthur Gordon were the front news this morning. Not that he cared too much for one of the Gordons. What had alerted him was the mention of Della's name. He could hardly believe his eyes when he scanned the article and stumbled over her name. He had no idea she was back in Los Angeles, nor did he know that she had been the subject of gossip the last couple of weeks. According to the paper Della Street Carlisle had been rumored to succeed Arthur Gordon's wife as the administrator of his charity foundation and as her replacement in Gordon's private life. He couldn't even picture her at his side, nor did he believe it. Gordon wasn't Della's type and when he looked at the photo of the late Mrs Gordon, he couldn't believe Della was his. Yet, it bothered him to read that people were speculating about her private life like this.

The first time he had seen Arthur Gordon was when he attended Richard Carlisle's memorial service over a year ago. He had noticed the tall, gray haired man, but otherwise he hadn't paid that much attention to him. The day Richard Carlisle was buried his focus had been on Della. He had done his best not to stare at her, while he tried to find out how she really felt underneath her perfect surface that kept her tears so well in check. But he could hardly catch a glimpse of her, didn't find the chance to talk to her for more than a few seconds and she had never contacted him again.

All the years he had thought their connection, whatever it was, was special, unique, precious, but now that they both were free again, it seemed broken. Yet he still craved for a sign from her and now her name practically jumped in his face. She was back in Los Angeles. She was close, closer than he knew.

Before he could allow himself to realize the meaning of it, someone rang his doorbell. He looked up, alerted, sensing this visitor would change something. There was this hunch again, this feeling that had saved more than one client from a life in jail or worse. He looked at the paper again, stared at her name and knew who stood in front of his door.

To him she looked as beautiful as always. Even flawless, though something about her was different. She seemed tense, but he blamed it on the circumstances. They hadn't seen each other for over a year and the last time they really talked, instead of just speaking to each other, she had said, she couldn't have him in her life...

"_Because we both know, it would never be enough..." _

"I can't believe you kept this place," she said, as she entered his apartment and looked around.

"I've always liked this place. There was no need to sell it. And it has proven to be a good idea to keep it, wouldn't you say so?"

The true meaning of his words hung in the air. Since she knew where to find him, she must know he and Laura were divorced. She nodded, playing with the clutch in her hand.

"Seems so... I'm sorry about you and Laura."

He smiled, a little amused. "You're not... but knowing you, you won't say 'I've told you so'".

"I won't... because I never did."

"True. Can I get you something?" he asked, deciding it was time to ease the tension.

"No, thank you."

He followed her eyes that lay on the table where the Arthur Gordon's face stared at the ceiling.

"I see you already read about Paula Gordon's murder," she said and picked up the paper.

"Yes. Interesting read. You're friends with them?" he asked, trying his best to phrase things as vaguely as possible.

"Arthur was a friend of Richard's. They'd known each other since college. Paula was his second wife, I hardly knew her." She returned the paper and looked up to him. "She didn't like me," she shrugged, almost amused.

"Jealous?" he asked. He didn't like how Gordon's first name had slipped from her tongue.

"Maybe."

"They say, you were going to succeed her. It's her husband's foundation after all."

"They were getting divorced. Their marriage had been a catastrophe for years. He didn't like how she handled the finances of the foundation."

"I read that, too," Perry said. "And why were you taking over the foundation?"

"He only asked me a few days ago, whether I'm interested. I haven't given him my answer yet and I doubt it's much of a concern for him right now."

"That's probably true. Looks as if the evidence against him is overwhelming."

"He didn't kill her," she stated seriously.

"And how can you know that?" Perry asked, curiously.

"He came to me last night after he found her," she explained slowly and he frowned. "He was devastated."

"He didn't call the police first?"

She shook her head. "That's what I asked him. I told him to tell the police immediately, but someone had already found her body..." she bit her lower lip and looked down to her feet. "What the press doesn't know yet is that he was arrested in my hotel room."

He looked at her, almost angry. But he wasn't angry with her, at least not as angry as he was with Gordon. He knew why she came to see him, knew what she wanted to ask him, and he felt outsmarted by her request. She wasn't here, because she wanted him, the man... she wanted the lawyer. She had her cause that drove her. And what would he do? Of course, he wouldn't decline Arthur Gordon's defense. He couldn't refuse when she asked him, because he couldn't refuse her anything.

He stared at her and waited for her plea. That much she owed him. "Please, Perry... he's innocent."

"You know, I won't be able to keep your name out of this."

"I'm aware of that."

"You know the press will haunt you, speculate about your relationship with him?" he asked grumpily, because he didn't want to have to ask her about it.

"I have nothing to hide," she answered. "Because there's nothing... there never was anything between him and me."

"Then we should go and see your Mr Gordon."

* * *

_Los Angeles, 3 months later_

How long could a woman lick her wounds? How long could she look in the mirror and feel sorry for herself? Laura sighed and turned away from her reflection in the mirror. She had been a quitter for far too long. But she was still there, still alive. She had survived the loss of her child and the loss of her husband. A man she had loved, but not for the man he was, but for the vision she had of him. She had seen so much in him and had overlooked him at the same time. And she had paid for it. Had paid with years, pills, and guilt. Now it was time to move on. She had seen it all and she had faced almost all. Facing Della Street again and one last time was her last task to accomplish. If she could face her, what was there left to fear for?

* * *

Life was full of surprises; that much she had always known and she had certainly learned not to take anything for granted. So it seemed rather natural that the day had to come, when Laura Mason appeared on her doorstep. But like every human who failed every now and then, Della was caught by surprise when she saw her.

"Hello Della," she said. "I hope I'm not disturbing..."

Della wanted to answer, she was indeed disturbed, but something inside her told her to ask the other woman in. Their paths had crossed many times and yet they had hardly spoken to each other in all those years.

"No, you're not... why don't you come in?"

"Thank you."

"May I ask how you found me?"

Della asked, as she led Laura into her living room. She had bought the apartment only two weeks ago and the renovation works were still not finished.

"I have some useful friends in useful places," Laura answered cryptically as she looked around. "How have you been?"

Della crooked her eyebrow, unsure what to do with the question. She was sure Laura knew everything about her life in the last 25 years. "I'm fine."

Laura's eyes scanned the room until they had found, what they had been searching for. They came to rest on the framed picture of a young man. It stood on the piano, the only piece of furniture that wasn't covered with a protective sheet.

"Is that your son?" Laura asked, as she took the photo into her hands.

"Yes, it is," Della answered, now completely dumbfounded. Whatever Laura wanted, Della doubted she knew it herself.

"He looks very much like his father," Laura mused lowly.

"He was very much like his father," Della confirmed. "Maybe a bit more sensitive and trusting."

Laura smirked. "That's the privilege of youth... I've always envied you, you know."

How ironic, Della thought. Wasn't she the one who had envied Laura all those years? Because she had all Della ever wanted.

"You had all I ever wanted. A man who loves you and a son who adores you. I've lost both of them, before they were mine."

"I know I have a lot of reasons to be grateful," Della confirmed, after she had contemplated Laura's words.

Carefully, almost prudently, Laura returned the photograph back to its place and looked at Della.

"Why aren't you with Perry?" she asked. "You're both free. You can do whatever you like. I'm not an obstacle anymore."

"I'd prefer not to talk about it..."

Laura smirked. "I didn't expect you to. I took me a lot to understand it, but I think we all, and I mean including your husband, would have been better off, if we had been honest with each other. If we had only admitted what we really wanted, we all might have had a chance. And now we have to take the chances that are left for us."

"You're talking about honesty?" Della asked, slightly angry.

"Yes. And you know I'm right," Laura paused. "Perry used to say that the truth can save us all. If I were you, I'd know what to do."

"But I'm not you."

"And that's your advantage. Whatever your sin is, it can't be greater than mine."

Deciding it was her time to leave, Laura passed Della and made her way to the apartment door.

After the door had closed behind Laura, Della just thought about her late husband in his limited life in a wheelchair and that she wasn't so sure about Laura's last words. None of them was perfect and they all were to blame. And truth was, she loved a man who was free, like her.

Laura on the other hand was sure that some truths were better left untold; they weren't even worth a whisper and that they certainly couldn't save people. Some people are to blame for other people's unhappiness, but that didn't mean they had to speak out on it. Sometimes one just had to act to make things as right as possible.

* * *

_Two days later_

"Case dismissed." Della heard the words, but couldn't quite process the meaning of them. It was over. The case was solved and Arthur Gordon was free. It almost felt like old times. The relief when an innocent person could walk out of the courtroom as a free person was the same as 30 years ago. Only that she was not part of it. She had been sitting in the back, watching the trial, instead of assisting Perry and taking notes. Somehow she had felt useless and that was the feeling she hated with passion.

She waited for people to leave the room, waited until Arthur Gordon had thanked Perry, and told Arthur she would call him, before she approached the lawyer who was collecting his files. She jealously eyed his young secretary who picked up the things he passed to her and wished she could make the brunette disappear with a blink of her eyes.

"You did well, Counselor," she said with a bright smile, when they finally were alone.

"Thank you. You were right, he was innocent."

"Some people say I'm a good judge of character."

He smiled back at her. "You certainly are, Miss...," he paused and then he corrected himself. "Della."

A big, almost overwhelming part of her wanted to ask him for dinner, wanted to spend time with him, talk to him, have him back for good, but then she realized it wouldn't do any good. She wanted something else. More than the casualty of a date and a mention in the gossip column of the morning paper.

She stepped a little closer, cupped his face with her hand and placed a long, tender kiss on his mouth. Paper rustled as the file he had held in his hand, fell on the desk and his hand got hold of her elbow. He pulled her a little closer, but she broke the kiss, before he could deepen it.

"Thank you," she whispered and avoided his eyes, as she turned away and left the courtroom.

* * *

_The next day_

Perry arrived at his office shortly after 9 am and his mood was worse than ever. He was old and wise enough to admit that he didn't know women. He didn't understand them and their emotions. He knew they complained when men promised to call, but didn't, but why they kissed someone and decided to disappear afterwards was an even bigger mystery to him. He tried to track her down last night. Had called her new apartment, had gone there, but she didn't open. And after bribing and questioning the doorman he had learned, she had been picked up by Arthur Gordon for dinner. How was he supposed to read her behavior? What if the kiss meant really nothing more than 'Thank you'? It had certainly felt different...

He sighed grumpily, as he closed the door behind him. The antechamber was empty, but he heard his secretary talking to someone in his office. Apparently, some of the journalists wanted to pester him. No, the day ahead was not something to look forward to.

Not even the smell of coffee could raise his mood and he already had a snarky remark on his lips, when he opened the door to his office, but it got stuck in his throat. Somebody was already sitting in his chair and it wasn't his present secretary.

"Thank you. I'll tell him to call you back," Della said into the phone and hung up. He watched her, speechless, his jaw dropped.

"Good morning, Counselor. You're late," she greeted him, rising from his chair. "There is already a long list of calls that you've to answer and it seems you haven't been checking your mail very regularly lately."

"I was busy," he answered statically.

"No excuses, Counselor. You have an office to run, haven't you?"

He grabbed her wrist, as she passed him and pulled her close to him. "Tell me, I'm not dreaming," he demanded softly, as he kissed her forehead.

"You aren't dreaming. And I'm not going away... unless you want me to."

He shook his head, determined to keep what fate had just delivered to him. He knew only too well how high the price had been. It was just above what their could afford.

"Never. God knows, I've been waiting a long time."

He placed his finger under her chin and kissed her. First slowly and tender and then with the raising passion of a lifetime that he had spent yearning for the one woman he loved.

**~~The End~~**


End file.
